


I Am A Lady

by Airie



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Character Background, Gen, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 16:43:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1192380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airie/pseuds/Airie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dunmer Dovahkiin's bio in the form of the story of her life passed to Kodlak. Because kodlak is a good listener.<br/>Summary: She served as a spy of the champion of Cyrodiil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am A Lady

Most Dunmer new to Skyrim’s harsh conditions have a hard time acclimatizing. Thankfully, Whiterun is a somewhat genial milieu, conveniently placed in the middle of the province. 

Blessed are those who find solace in deep, regenerating sleep. Lycanthropy however negates any hope for a long, pleasant rest. Dreams are less peaceful, seldom memorable after awaking. In the morning one is sore and frustrated instead of fresh and relaxed, as being a werewolf is a state of constant alertness and anxiety. 

It was the second day in a row that Caye couldn’t sleep, but not because of her new surroundings. She was born north from Morrowind, snow and cold winds were nothing new to her. It was the newly acquired beast blood that kept her from pleasant dreams. She didn’t feel comfortable with her new powers. Her muscles were tense, though she tried to operate with precision, her moves were sudden jerks with too much force applied. Just the other day, she bend two sporks, and when she reached for a glass of water, it shattered in her grasp. As glass was expensive, she restricted herself to wooden cutlery. 

There were also mental implications. She now based her actions on instinct rather than cautious planning, as she used to. When she was walking pass the Gildergleen this morning, one of the Battle-Born children ran past her. For one moment she felt the primal urge to jump on the boy and… This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t… her.

The peaceful breathing of the other Companions in the common room was a mockery of her frustration. She needed to get out, inhale the fresh air, kill a sheep or two… She quickly got up, dressed herself, and quietly left the warrior’s quarters.

She passed the mead hall and exited Jorrvaskir through the back door, onto the training grounds. The night was just as it should be to ease a troubled mind; quiet and well-lit by Nirn’s two moons. Not a cloud in the sky, no rain nor snow. Caye was disappointed there were no northern lights. She was awestruck the moment she saw those bright colored blurs and has been in love with their ephemeral beauty ever since. She walked up to the observation post in the stone wall and for a moment marveled at the vast plains of grassland and proud mountains filling the horizon. Skyrim had a certain uncompromising charm. Still, she missed Cyrodiil, where she spent some of her most prominent years… She never missed her birthplace, though. 

She took a deep breath. There was a presence in the air. Her senses were sharper now, she could pick up the scent of one’s skin from an incredible distance. This one came from just a few steps behind her. Nord, elder, diseased. Kodlak. She turned around and walked towards the Harbinger who was sitting at one of the tables with three bottles of mead beside him. Nords and their drinks.

“I am not the only one who has trouble laying their head to rest, it seems. My quarters share a wall with Farkas’. Good lad, that one, but he snores like a bear.” He said, rubbing the palms of his hands together. The night was not chilly at all, it was perhaps a matter of his age.

“Forgive my intruding, sera. I’ll leave you to your privacy.” She said with a stiff bow, as she tried to retreat. 

“Nonsense, girl. Keep an old warrior company.” With a gesture he urged her to sit, ignoring her pompous manners. As she seated herself at his side, he passed her one of the bottles, which she accepted with a slight nod. She didn’t enjoy liquor, but it was rude to refuse.

“You seem troubled.” He noticed, positioning himself more comfortably on the wooden bench.

“I am sure you have your own troubles, sera. I do not wish to burden you with my petty problems.” She dismissed his concern as politely as she could. Crying for help was the last thing she would do. 

White Mane laughed, quickly falling into a hoarse cough. His health was deteriorating fast. Caye raised her hand charged with a weak healing spell, but Kodlak with a wave signaled her not to bother. After a few moments his breath eased.

“Ah…” he paused for a moment to take a sip of mead. “You prefer not to bother me with your problems? Yes, Aela mentioned you do not boast nor complain. As it should be.”

“Indeed” she agreed respectfully. “I highly value her opinion.” She added truthfully, as the Huntress was someone who instantly earned her respect. Recently, she became even more solitary. The loss of Skjor weighted heavy on her. The Elf sympathized with her, but dared not offer comfort. She knew the Huntress wouldn’t accept pity. All Caye could do to help was to take any effort to retaliate at the Silver Hand.

“If you suffer because your… new condition, know it is only natural and you will eventually learn to cope. Both your mind and heart will soon learn to handle and control it. You are the one in charge, not the beast in you. But if you feel that you can no longer contain yourself, you best run off into the wilderness to blow off some steam. I am sure no one would pity a band of bandits or smugglers.”

“Thank you. I will be sure to do that.” She said, pressing her palm against her chest as a sign of sincerity. The sudden silence that fell made her uncomfortable. There were too many questions in that silence.

“We hadn’t had much time to talk, have we?” He inquired. 

“No, sera. But if you wish, I will have a chat with you.” The Elf agreed obediently. 

”I would very much like that. I know what you are going through, little one” he said, lowering his voice. What he called her… She shrugged what Kodlak took as a sign of unease. “Have I upset you?” He asked raising his thick eyebrows.

“No. It… it was a long time since anyone called me that.” She explained, vigorously warming her drink with her hands. 

In truth, she was small. Very slim and short, though still taller than any Bosmer. The Harbinger examined her profile. Her uncompromising face was just as he saw it in his dream. Her features were sharp and stern, almost hawk-like. Fitting major Dunmer canons of beauty, she had ashen gray skin with a hint of blue and red hair. Both sides of her parting were pulled back with a waterfall braid. Her lips were slightly paler with the upper lip having a distinct arch. The nose was short and aquiline, whilst the cheekbones high and pronounced.

And then there were her eyes. Her entire slanting eyesockets were filled with black. Her eyes were a source of embarrassment when she was a child, but as an adult she learned how convenient it was to use them to her advantage. Most people had difficulty looking her straight in the face and saying ‘no’. It was also hard to determine whenever she was bluffing or lying, as it was impossible to track her pupil movement. Kodlak was good at reading people and he knew a good fighter when he saw one. Yet, this little Dunmer with creepy eyes was still a mystery to him.

“Is there anything specific you’d like to talk about?” She asked, giving away no sing if she was made uncomfortable by his stare.

“I was hoping to talk a bit about you.” Kodlak chose blunt honesty. 

“Oh… I assume you won’t leave the subject if I plead you have some respect for my privacy?”

The old warrior shook his head. His hair was truly white. Not gray as with most elders of men, but pure white and what seemed silky soft. Although the comparison was unsuitable for an old werewolf, Caye’s first thought was ‘like a lamb’s snow-white fleece’. 

“I will respect your privacy, but there are things I must know about you, youngster. It’s a matter of trust.”

“Then ask…” She sighed knowing resistance was pointless. She knew this conversation was inevitable. Might as well get it over with and tell the old man all he wanted… and needed to know. 

“Tell me… What led you to Skyrim in the first place? I can see you are not just some restless adventurer. I want to know what led someone of your eloquence, manners and… unique skills so far up north.”

For a brief second the Elf considered spinning some elaborate lie, but quickly dropped the idea. There was no point. The man trusted her and was no threat, she could tell him the truth.

“Do you really wish to be bored with the long, sad story of my life on such a fine night?” She asked, jerking one corner of her mouth upward. White Mane guessed it was supposed to be a smile. 

“I’m in no hurry, pup. And I helped raise the Twins, so you can imagine the capacity of my patience.” He insisted.

There was no harm in telling him her story. Kodlak could be discreet and what she learned by now, he was not judgmental. Those things made him a perfect trustee. And he had less than a year to live. What harm could he do in less than twelve months of ill health?

“All right, I surrender. I shall satisfy your curiosity.” She shrugged defeated. “My story should start with some place of birth, right? I was born on the isle of Solstheim, which is similar to Skyrim in many ways. I have no recollection of any family as I grew up in an orphanage in Raven Rock. I was told my previous guardians abandoned me as an infant on a doorstep. I never felt the need to inquire further, as orphans abandoned by refugees were nothing unusual during the times that followed the destruction of Vvardenfell…” She suddenly paused and placed her hand on the Harbinger’s sleeve. “Sera… Kodlak, before I go any further, know this: I do not want to shock you, nor make you feel sorry for me. Those are the bare facts and I have no intention of wallowing how hard life has been on me. For some reason you want to understand me and I want to be honest with you. That is all.” She finished the sentence stressing out the last words.

“I would never insult you with such insinuations. Go on.” He assured, swatting away a torchbug lured by the aroma of mead.

“I grew up as a quiet child, a sort of an outsider. The other children left me alone and I had no desire to grow close to any of them. I didn’t fear nor hate anyone, they just seemed so… dreary. I left the orphanage as a young lass to live on my own. I had no intention of becoming a wench, I valued myself as someone of much finer stock, than those poor souls haunting the less prosperous streets. I became a thief. And a good one, mind you!” She raised her finger as if expecting him to express doubt. He did no such thing. 

“Picking locks, moving unseen, climbing into people’s homes felt so… natural. And ever so exciting. I was cautious though. I had a perfect cover, I was an underpaid housemaid of a elder Dunmer mage. Crabby Elf, but he provided me with a roof over my head, the clothes on my back and never attempted to take advantage of a poor young maiden that I was. Or he thought I was. All I had to do was to make sure the house was clean, his meals right on schedule and that no one bothered him during his studies. Studies! He mostly read old books and drank tea!” She chuckled and for a moment her face seemed slightly less unapproachable. 

“So, the unassuming maid was Solstheim’s most notorious thief?” He asked with a hint of disbelief. Caye noted he hadn’t scolded her or voiced disapproval. Perhaps he was saving it for the end of the story. 

“You value me too highly.” She modestly rebuffed. “I merely hunted for sport and to have some more spending money. There was no guild present so far up north. Still, I was cautious. A coinpurse here, a rare book there and the occasional pretty ring or gem. I thought I was living big, with my secret identity and smoothly carried out bad deeds. I was foolish… By the time I had an impressive stash of stolen goods I grew bored. I turned to my master’s books. After some buttering up, he reluctantly agreed to teach me the Arcane Arts. Nothing earth shattering, just a few basic spells. He hoped I’d soon get bored and return to my choirs. We were both shocked to discover my affinity for the school of Destruction. Casting thunderbolts became my prime activity. “She laid back with a faint smile. “I loved the smell of storm in the air, that proud sound, the numbing at my fingertips. It was almost better at it than with opening locks. For the first time the old coot praised me in his own crony fashion. I didn’t care much for his approval. I only wanted to get better.”

She snapped her fingers, lighting up a moth that was sluggishly fluttering by. The insect silently exploded into a ball of light, then disappeared in a cloud of white smoke. 

“But my life was still empty. It lacked… devotion. True passion, something to make me want to live, not just thoughtlessly enjoy days as they passed by. Do you know that longing?”

“Aye” Kodlak nodded in all seriousness “before I became a Companion my life lacked the same… drive.”

“Something to live and fight for” she summarized. “My fate found me just a few days before I reached my twenty-fifth birthday. The winter was bad, my master more cranky than usual. He cut my funds to save money for firewood and medicine. So, I returned to thieving. Among the Dunmer masses that lived on Solstheim after the Red Year, there were many who still had coin. I felt no remorse, they lived comfortably, despite the ‘homeland’ turned into a charred wasteland. And I needed a new pair of boots…” She let the memories flood her mind… 

_Fourth Era, year 123. The settlement of Raven Rock grew into a thriving community composed mostly of Dunmer refugees. The architecture reflected the one of House Redoran with soft elliptical arches, thick walls and dark green windows composed of solid glass. The air bore a promise of a cold, snowy night. The charred pines surrounding the town whispered enigmatically, shading flakes of ash._

_A petite, red-haired Dark Elf leaned against the shaded side of the local countryclub. Her arms were crossed, elbows pressed firmly to her sides. Her clothes were plain and clean, yet showing signs of use. Her black eyes were alert. She surveyed the square next to the marketplace. Maybe a drunk would be passing by, too intoxicated to notice her hand slipping into their pocket?_

_Then, she noticed her, someone who she never saw before. A wealthy looking Dunmer matron heading somewhere in an apparent hurry. Caye had never seen a Dark Elf with such light skin. It had an unbelievable hue of powder blue. The matron’s hair was azure, no way it could be her real hair color. It flowed in the wind, secured with an elaborate ebony headdress. It was a good sign, maintaining such an unusual hairstyle and color must have cost a fortune. She was not accompanied by anyone and seemed distracted by her thoughts. Perfect._

_There was no time for wondering. She had to strike fast. She stepped out of the shadow and casually strolled towards the blue-haired woman. She had mastered the art of ‘accidently’ bumping into people. Their shoulders met, their eyes met. Her hand sunk into the matron’s pocket._

_“Pardon me, Mutsehra, the streets are slippery.” She apologized, smiling insincerely. This was the most difficult part, she needed to make her voice as soft as she could and her eyes as least intimidating as possible._

_“No harm done, miss” replied the woman with a warm smile. From up close, her skin was even more radiant. And her face was so… sweet. Unlike most elves, her features were soft and mild. Caye was certain her victim must have had some Breton blood in her. She gently patted the young thief’s shoulder and walked away._

_For a moment Caye felt a strange twinge of longing. That unnamed woman had an aura around her. She felt no remorse from robbing her, but a small part of her wanted to follow her and just… watch. Not observe, but admire, bask in her presence. It was a new and unfamiliar feeling to her, but in no way unpleasant. She quickly pushed that feeling aside and ordered herself to focus on her loot. The coinpurse was a pleasing burden, she reached to her belt when she noticed… That her own purse was missing._

_That N’wah! She felt heat on her cheeks and forehead. She was robbed in broad daylight! She was the thief! This was her turf! How dare she, that pale hag! She couldn’t let her get away with her money and pride! She pulled out her trusty dagger and pursued the mysterious woman._

_The matron hadn’t gotten that far away, as she found her just a few moments later, near the town gate. When she heard the thief’s quick footsteps, she turned around with grace. She was smiling politely, pretending not to notice the blade in Caye’s hand._

_“Is there something the matter, little miss?” She asked, perfectly faking surprise._

_“Give me back my money!” The youngster hissed, making a step forward. This was personal, if she resists, she’s going to cut that tender face of hers._

_“By the Gods miss, are you accusing me of stealing?” She asked, clasping her palms together. That does it!_

_“Give. It. Back.” Caye gnashed her small, round teeth._

_“Hmm… no!” The blue-haired woman turned around with a giggle and bolted._

_The girl cried out a curse and chased her down the road. The streets were truly slippery, yet both managed to maintain balance and speed as they went on a merry goose chase throughout the town. The escapee enjoyed herself, and her pursuer felt rage building up inside her gut with each passing moment. They maneuvered the back alleys, ran over pedestrians, jumped from rooftop to rooftop. Just as Caye thought she had her would-be victim within arm’s reach, the matron somehow managed to dash away. Finally, after an exhausting chase, the woman stopped near the docks._

_“You’re good at this! Oh, dearie, is the knife really necessary?” She frowned, as the thief brandished her dagger. “You shouldn’t have done that” she scolded, as she armed herself as well with a short sword she had hidden under her coat._

_They clashed. The bumpkin was fast and savage, yet the older Elf flowed around her like water. Caye’s dagger swished around, meeting only the crisp air, whereas the woman managed to cruelly cut her clothing, somehow avoiding damaging the skin._

_“Enough of this!” The girl cried after another futile blow. She clenched her free hand into a tight fist and as she released, a searing orb of fire flew towards the pale Elf, striking her straight in the gut. Somehow, she managed to regain balance right in time to dodge Caye’s blade._

_“Destruction? You continue to impress, girl.” She praised truthfully. “Do you plan to play the stoic?” She asked, as the maiden remained silent. “Very well, it’s my turn…”_

_The residents of Raven Rock turned their heads to the sky, wondering how was it possible they heard thunder in this wintry climate. Meanwhile, Caye couldn’t catch her breath. Her limbs were numb and her tongue felt heavy in her mouth. The woman kneeled before her. The look in her bright red eyes was unsettling. Not cruel, but calculating. She had plans for this little Dunmer. With no doubt she planned some elaborate torture._

_“Get it over with.” She managed to utter. Yet, the woman sheathed her weapon, pulled her arm over Caye’s back and carefully rested her on her lap. She gazed into her void eyes._

_“Are you a member of the Guild, dear?” She asked._

_“There is no Guild in this hole!”_

_“Does your family know you mug innocent people in the streets?”_

_“I have no family and I won’t be missed. Now fry me already!” She growled, growing tired._

_“Oh, little one” the woman whispered as her slender hand brushed the girl’s hair from her face. “A talent such as yours is too valuable to waste. What is your name?”_

_“Caye.”_

_“Magpie? How astute! So tell me, little Magpie, have you ever visited the Homeland?”_

The bottle was empty, the taste of honey trickled the back of her mouth. Kodlak’s breathing was wheezing and uneasy. Yet, he listened patiently.

“My name means ‘magpie’ in an old Dunmer dialect.” Caye explained. “That’s what they called me in the orphanage. Possibly because small, shiny trinkets had the habit of disappearing around me. But I think it was mostly because of my eyes.”

“I see… Who was she?” He asked.

“Who was she for me? Or what did she do for a living? I will tell you, in time. Right now, I want you to know what happened when I was able to move again. We exchanged purses. Then, she made me an offer. I was to meet her at the docks in an hour and leave Raven Rock together. To where? She told me to either trust her or leave and forget about the whole affair.” She sighed. “My mistress was always sweet and gentle… until you tried to oppose her.”

“Mistress?” The Harbinger raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, that’s what I immediately started addressing her. It felt natural.”

“And you left your master without a second thought?”

“Yes. He was napping when I returned. I took a few essential belongings, scribbled a brief note, slid the key under his pillow and left. I never looked back and regretted nothing.” Her voice was frank, deprived of any emotions. 

“I doubt that woman took you in from the kindness of her heart.”

“She saw my talents and decided to make an investment in me. She took me on a short trip to Morrowind, then back to her home in Cyrodiil. I started training under strict supervision. I quickly learned not to ask too many questions and just observe. My days were filled to the brim with training. I learned the art of fine speech and subterfuge. She also instructed that I be shown how to handle the longer blades. Privately, she taught me history and politics. Those were my favorite lessons, as they were more like fiery debates than strict lectures. And I had the opportunity of spending time with her. In my leisure time I read books. She had countless volumes in her home.”

“Did you like it there?”

“I loved it. She showed me the life. I was now the one who had a maid, finer clothes, a comfy bed and food from all around Tamriel. Naturally, I knew I could live there as long as I was useful to her. And I did my best to be the best.” She stressed out.

_Several months passed before she received her first assignment. She was anxious to prove her worth. Her Mistress was studying one of the many letters she received daily. The room that served her as a study was plain, save for the ornamented window that filed the entire west wall. During sunset the light passing through the colorful stained glass ornaments filled the interior with puddles of bright colors. The cry of seagulls could be heard outside._

_“You have been showing promise so far” the Mistress said. “I think it is high time to test your mettle.”_

_Caye sat motionless in her chair, waiting for instructions. Her apparel was finer than the one she wore on Solstheim, yet still modest and simple. She dared not speak. She waited._

_“The stoic act again? You know, if your assignment requires it, you will have to waggle your tongue a bit. Ah, but what you do in private is not my concern. You want details, yes?” The Lady of the House tilted her head in her charming manner._

_“I await instructions, Mutsehra.” The youngster admitted obediently._

_Her Lady folded the papers and put them aside. It was surprising how disciplined that former thief was. She learned fast. In fact, she had a ravenous hunger for knowledge and improvement. In time, she might prove to be her most valuable asset._

_“I am sending you to Cheydinhall. The count is hosting a small party there. You are to attend that party disguised as a minor noble from the once great House Hlaalu. When the time is right, you will slip away and use the hidden passage… I have provided you with the layout of the palace, have I not?” Her disciple nodded. “Good. Through that passage you will sneak to the count’s chambers. I believe that in his private ledger there are documents from his Thalmor…‘friends’. You will take those papers and replace them with a copy I will provide you with. A contact will meet you at the stables. She will fill you in on the more tedious details. Now, do you have any questions?” She asked, raising her perfectly fashioned brow._

_“We have no love for the Thalmor, my lady?” The lass asked._

_The Mistress’ eyes narrowed. For a second her gentle face had a savage, hateful expression._

_“No, we do not. They embody everything that is wrong with our kind. I shall explain you the errors of their ways in greater detail when you return. Now, go. You have a long way ahead of you.”_

_“It shall be done.” Caye said, as she stood up. When she was at the door, her lady gave one final instruction._

_“It pains me to say this, but as you enter that nest of fops, you are not to kill anyone. This, and your future assignments require stealth and subterfuge.”_

_“I am no brute.” Caye assured._

_“Oh? Then who are you, little one?” Asked the older Elf, with a seemingly innocent smile. She was curious of the answer._

_“I am a lady.” The youngling said with a bow. She left her Mistress in a splendid mood, which quickly faded in the face of anxiety. That girl… She must succeed and come back… home in one piece._

“You were a spy, then?” Kodlak was surprised, but not skeptic. He hadn’t expected the unassuming lass to have such an unusual story to tell. Yet, the girl didn’t talk much about herself in the first place.

“An agent, if you please. Yes, she recruited, trained and educated me, then threw into the world of politics. I came back after a few weeks with the papers and even a few overheard conversations, that might be worth looking into. There was no blood trail behind me, I understood how important it was for us and our cause to be discreet.”

“What cause was that?” The Harbinger expressed his interest.

“To secure the dying Empire and keep the Thalmor threat at bay.” She explained frankly.

“Why would she devote her life to such a cause?” He asked, to what the Dunmer sighed.

“Oh, she had every reason to do so. Tell me, have you read works on the Oblivion Crysis?”

“Yes, that I did. Although it is hard to find the truth between so many contradicting versions” he admitted. Reading became one of his most practiced leisure activities ever since he contracted the Rot. He was not proud of it, reading in his warm, safe quarters made him feel old.

“Then you surely recall the unnamed prisoner who Emperor Uriel pardoned in the Imperial City prison. The same one, who found the Emperor’s bastard son, Martin, helped close the Oblivion Gates and finally, assisted the last Septim with banishing the Dagon back into his realm.” 

“Yes, the Champion of Cyrodill, the prisoner was called by historians. But they said, that the hero either died or left the Imperial Province shortly afterwards.”

“Truth is, she went into hiding. Started her own underground empire of agents. Why? I never learned that. But I trusted her regardless, because…” Caye paused as she noticed her voice was slightly raised in pitch.

“Because she gave your life a purpose.” Kodlak spoke the words for her. The girl looked away for a moment, he couldn’t figure her expression.

“She gave me a life and a purpose. In return, she got my eternal loyalty. I infiltrated strongholds for her. I assassinated our enemies, disrupted their intelligence. I was even assigned with the task of arranging marriage between our two allies. Although I was living a dangerous, tense existence… Those were the happiest years of my life. And then the Great War came…”

_She was lying in a soft, warm bed. Though she tried to get up, she was too weak to even raise her arm and reach for a glass of… of… anything. Why was she so thirsty? She slowly regained recollection of the past events._

_Frenzied running through the woods, off the main roads. Soldiers everywhere, torn flags flying into the horizon, leaving tails of smoke behind. The smell of lightning and burning flesh in the air. Aldmeri battlemages marching forward in perfect rows. Disciplined and deadly. An Orc legionary pinned to the ground with his own sword. Blood mixed with mud into reeking puddles. The putrid heaps of bodies marking the battlegrounds._

_And her own frantic breathing as she ran pass the enemy’s ambushes, to the rear of the frontlines to deliver her message. The situation was bad, the war was ravaging the land for almost four years now. Her Lady grew more frustrated with each passing day. There were whispers of the Empire surrendering to the Dominion. But they won’t let that happen. Her Mistress must have dozens of plans prepared for every scenario._

_She climbed the mountains, pushing up north to deliver the Imperial Missive. She took an arrow to the side, but the bleeding was not that bad. She was growing cold, but she could run a few more hours. She tripped, landing face-first into the snow, got up and fell again. She was cold and tired, but she had to complete her task before she could earn the right to rest. Duty comes first. But… maybe she could rest in the all of a sudden comfy bed of snow for just a moment…_

_How could she allow herself to pass out in the snow!? If she had some strength left, she would slap herself in the face. Hard. But where was she? Who took her here? Wherever ‘here’ was, that is._

_“Rest, dear. You are safe now.” The voice of her beloved Mistress and her delicate hand touched her feverish cheek. “The sentinel spotted you on your way up to the stronghold. You almost bled out in the snow.”_

_“The letters…” She whispered. If the papers she was entrusted with were gone…!_

_“You had them on you, don’t worry.” The Lady assured her. She turned around and dispensed orders to her healer and cook, then faced her again. The howling of the wind outside was unbearable. Now Caye remembered, they had to hide, move away from their comfortable house in Anvil to a safe haven far away from civilization. The Mistress took only her most loyal with her, Caye being among the small circle of her most reliable and trusted people. The place they took refuge in was a secret stronghold deep in the Jerall Mountains._

_“I will deliver your response first thing in the morning, my…” She tried to get up._

_“No, my dear.” The Spy Matriarch gently laid her down._

_“The healer…” Caye tried to protest._

_“There is no point in fetching the healer. You will be fine in a few days.” Her Lady was unnaturally calm. The look on her face was as if she made peace with a terrible loss. Peaceful, and yet filled with pain._

_“But… what of the war?”_

_“The war is over, little one. The Emperor surrendered.” She revealed, gently caressing her most trusted agent’s cheek. “It’s just us now against the Thalmor.”_

“She was heartbroken. She swore to support the Empire’s ideals after the last of the Dragon’s Blood had died. She reluctantly forged an uneasy alliance with the Elder Council and then the new Emperor. She spend almost two centuries plotting, scheming and ordering assassinations for the greater good that was a united Tamriel. And she was betrayed by the people who she should support. She suffered. And all I could do was to stay by her side when others either died or abandoned her.” She said slowly, as if she was afraid she could lose control of her voice. “From there on, everything went downhill. We had no support from White Gold Tower. Many of our allies either severed all connections with us, or simply died in the war or the cleansing that came afterwards.”

“Yet you stayed with her.” Kodlak stated the obvious.

She suddenly leaned towards him, chest pressed firmly against his side. He had never seen her face from this up close. And he never saw her so moved before. 

“To the death.” She muttered gravely, resting her forehead on his shoulder. He could only wonder if she was crying.

_It was one of the closing days of the second century of the Fourth Era. Caye was barely over a century old. Her Lady aged with grace, despite the hardships she endured in the decades following the end of the Great War. Their private war against the Dominion and its oppression raged on. They were deprived of most contacts and funds, but managed to carry out a few notable assassinations and sabotaged some of the enemy’s grand projects. But their efforts were more of an irregular guerilla, than the high-profile operations from their golden years. It was a matter of time before their luck ran out._

_Caye entered the Main Hall. Her azure-haired Mistress sat in a deep chair facing the fireplace. The embers gave her skin a golden hue making her similar to the High Elves she hated so much. But her red eyes were proof she was a Dunmer, stubborn and proud. And like all Dark Elves, unbroken. Underneath layers of charm and jovialness unfitting for her kin, she was tough. No amount of ill fortune, pain and humiliation could break a true Dunmer._

_“They are storming the main gate.” The servant announced calmly, kneeling at her side._

_“Thank you, dear. Would you fancy a glass of wine?” She asked as if they were discussing the weather._

_“I would very much like that.”_

_The Lady poured wine into tall crystal glasses and stood up. Caye followed and took the glass from her steady grip._

_“Here’s to you, my dear. The one who I could always be certain of.” She said, as their glasses ringed against each other. They drank in silence, pretending to be unaware of the siege outside. “It seems our time has come… Oh, damn it all to Oblivion!” The hostess suddenly screamed, throwing the vessel into the fire. She grabbed her agent, making her drop her glass. It shattered on the floor, leaving crimson ripples all around._

_“My Lady…” Caye tried to say something, but her Mistress didn’t allow it._

_“Two Centuries ago I faced a man who knew he was going to die from an assassin’s blade. He made peace with his fate, accepted the inevitable with dignity. But I cannot, dear, I simply cannot. Failure is something I can’t accept. There is still so much to do…” She released her most trusted spy and for a moment she looked as if she was going to burst into tears. Yet, she immediately pulled herself together. “I no longer fool myself ” she whispered. “The Empire of the Dragonborn dynasty is dead. Holding on to the past was a mistake on my part. I do not care what will happen with the other provinces. Hammerfell is prospering. Succession, then war with the Thalmor left it stronger than ever. I wish only to end Alinor’s terror. What happens afterwards is no longer my concern.”_

_“The defenders are still holding their positions. We can still escape…” The lass tried to reason._

_“Come, I have something to show you.” She interrupted, and gently wrapped her arm around Caye’s waist. She led her to her private quarters, which were less glamorous than the ones she was used to. She insisted that her protégé sit in her chair, which was more of a throne._

_“I want to ask that you forgive me, my sweet.” She pleaded and despite Caye’s protest, kneeled before her._

_“You have never done anything to wrong me, Mutsehra. You saved me from an empty, shallow existence. You perfected me. You… cared for me as if I were your own child.” Suddenly, talking was too much for the young Elf to bear. This can’t end like this! Not now!_

_“You are like a daughter to me.” She said, kissing her gently, like a mother. She unexpectedly sprang up and started walking across the room. Caye did not dare move._

_“I have done horrible things in my life, little one. In my youth I was cruel for foolish, selfish reasons. I communed with Daedra, even going as far as to reject a generous offer from the Mad God himself. I served the Night Mother. I meddled in the affairs of others with careless fervor.” She viciously raised her arms to the ceiling. From where she sat, Caye could see her shoulders tremble. “There were times I tried to repent, believe me. I tried to serve the Divines, but my nature called out for me. I sought a chance for salvation in my mission to upkeep the Empire. For, remember this!” She turned around, facing her loyal disciple with a fire burning in her eyes. “Life without ideals is meaningless. Without a goal, we are no different from animals that barely survive from day to day, until they get swallowed up by the bigger and stronger!”_

_“Sera…” This was too much for the younger Dunmer. Too many emotions at a time._

_“But you… You are my most precious treasure. I apologize for exploiting you for all those years. My intentions were good, believe me…!”_

_“Please… don’t make it sound so final. We still have a chance.” Caye tried to convince her in vain. The Matron smiled, and in that smile there was a shadow of her old confidence.”_

_“Yes… I have one last trick up my sleeve.” She said, clasping her hands together. A cloud of green vapor shoot out of her palms, straight into Caye’s chest. The pupil wheezed, then slowly exhaled. She couldn’t move. The Paralysis spell was strong._

_“It is too late for me. But I can still save you. Forgive me. And…” A tear rolled down her pale-blue cheek. “I love you, little one. This is your last order. When all this is over you shall leave Cyrodiil through Pale Pass and seek out your fortune in Skyrim. It is still safe from the Dominion. When you are once again able to move and I am no more… you shall be free.”_

_She pressed one of the stones in the wall, opening a secret passage unknown even to her agent. Caye was light, she managed to pick her up with little effort and lay down at the stone steps leading down into a dark corridor, a safe escape route._

_“Live your life for yourself, not for me.” Her beloved Mistress whispered as a farewell and slid the hidden door shut. In the dark Caye heard her muffled steps as she bustled across the room. Then, the door opened with force._

_“And a warm welcome to you, gentlemen.” Her cold, yet calm voice was followed by the proud sound of thunderbolt._

_For a moment all the spy could hear were the sounds of ice bolts, thunder and fireballs, accompanied by breaking furniture and shattering glass. Finally, she heard a curse from more than one person and a pained moan coming from… No!_

_“It seems you have been abandoned by everyone, wench. I am not surprised.” Someone, undoubtedly a Thalmor Justicar with a cold visage and superior pedigree, dared mock her. A moment later there was the sound of spitting and a disgusted scream._

_“Lick it off and say ‘thank you’, S’wit!” The rage in her Lady’s voice could burn down entire villages. A second later there was a muffled thump and a hurt grunt. A mace, the faithless dogs were going to bludgeon her!_

_“Believe me, I would love to show you your place, but that’s not up to me. You will be transferred to Alinor, there you will…” The rest of the Thalmor’s speech died in a sudden explosion._

_The whole stronghold shook at the foundations. A bit of dust fell on Caye’s head. Her eyes were wide open in the dark. Streams of tears poured on her face and onto the stone steps. It was a powerful Destruction spell. An explosion of fire and lightning coming from within the caster. A truly self-destruction spell used as a last resort by cornered mages of old. Her Lady… Her Misstress… She was too proud to let them take either of them. She saved her protégé and sacrificed herself to wipe out those who dared invade her home. Even in death, the she had to dictate the rules._

_And now she was gone._

_Caye was alone in the dark. Her last haven in ruins. And her Lady… there wasn’t even anything to give a proper burial to. She was unable to move a muscle, save for breathing. And yet, inside she was frenzied like never before. Her life was over! She was empty once again. Lost for the first time since she left Raven Rock._

_Hours passed before she could waggle her toes. Her eyes were dry, there were no more tears to be shed. When she got up, the fires above had died. But she did not know that. She slowly descended into the even greater darkness, like a mantra repeating…_

_“Pale Pass. Skyrim.”_

“The rest you know. I was captured by an Imperial ambush along with the Stormcloak rebels and sentenced to death. If it weren’t for a dragon attack we wouldn’t be talking now. That is my story.” She finished the tale bitterly. Her face and gestures were once more perfectly cool. She fell into silence. If the Harbinger wanted to continue their conversation, it was his turn to talk.

It was dusk, sacred time of Azura. In less than an hour the other warriors would wake up and go on their daily routines. The mad prophet of Talos was at his post, his ecstatic sermons heard all over the district.

“Were it someone else telling me this, I wouldn’t believe them. Yet you, I believe lass. I cannot match your Mistress in wisdom and power, but know that Jorrvaskir is your home. And the Companions are your family now. I am proud to have you as one of us.” He said looking her straight in the eyes. He felt no pity for the young Dark Elf for it was not about pity. Instead, the Dunmer earned his esteem.

“I know your words are not just pleasantries. Thank you, Harbinger.” She said with a faint smile. “I never shared this burden with anyone. Thank you for listening. My sword and spell arms are yours.” 

She got up, rubbed her sore back and bowed with respect. She turned around intending to enter the mead hall. When her hand was on the knob, Kodlak turned to her direction and opened his mouth.

“Ulva” she answered before he could ask the question. “Her name was Ulva.”


End file.
